


Stay Gold

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-24
Updated: 2012-11-10
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:39:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanks to an accident, two boys meet, and the events that follow will make them question who there are and what they mean to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by Umakoo@Tumblr and her massive collection of Tom and Chris gifs. The original fic had gifs to go with them. You can find them [here](http://fujoshichama.tumblr.com/tagged/stay-gold-fic).

As expected, January in Melbourne was sweltering. Even if the sky was partly cloudy and the wind blew gustily enough for the trees to rattle above him, it still was, and felt, every bit the thirty-five centigrade it was. The heat was doing its job in keeping the park clear, which served to make his job easier, but the trade-off was that Chris was woefully overheated as he completed his work.

During summer break he had taken up the job as a maintenance worker for one of the area’s many nature reserves. It had been a malformed idea from the beginning; his parents and younger brother lived off the mainland, and teens had taken up a majority of the jobs there, and even though his parents could sport him the funds to stay on the mainland during break, it was a less than ideal situation. Public housing was all he could afford and still make his way on the meager wage he was earning, but he oft reminded himself that he was earning enough to save for the school year so he could take it easy, and that was fine for him, shared flat or not.

The park he found a job at was a long, winding drive up the river, surrounded by walking paths, forest, and various wildlife if you counted the tourists. His job was to make his way from one service area to the next, doing routine maintenance to keep things orderly. Chris was just thankful that scrubbing bathrooms was left to janitorial staff, while he just had to take care of unclogging gutters and chasing out bats from the tin roofs. 

The shift began like any other; a call from a tourist to the head office to complain that the power running the air conditioner at a far off rest area had ceased to function. Of course it was his job to fix such, as his boss made clear. It didn’t help any that this particular rest area was off the main road, only accessible by foot or ATV. And just his luck that the only ATV was out on another service call. He would have liked to have waited until the other maintenance worker returned, but for some ungodly reason the calls kept pouring in for complaints, spurred on by the heat. In the end, his boss relented and agreed to drive him as far as he could, but he would have to walk the rest of the way.

No sooner did his boss drive from sight did Chris curse his luck. Of all the days to have an entire tour group complain of the same damn thing, it just had to be a day where it was sweltering and his only mode of transportation was his own two feet. But a job was a job, and as much as he was hating it at the moment, he could at least ask for the rest of the day off if he played his cards right. And it was a Saturday, so he’d have the following day off! He could kick start his weekend early!

With the pep talk firmly planted in the forefront of his mind, Chris set off on the long trail towards the rest area. 

 

It took him a half hour to hike up to the near abandoned rest area, powered by a collection of solar panels hooked to an exterior console. Normally no one would venture out there, for it was far from the main walking paths and up a few steep inclines. The rest area itself was rather rundown, the paint peeling on the sides and all. There was some equipment abandoned by a group that continued on foot laying atop an outcropping of rocks nearby, but for how long he wasn’t sure. It wouldn’t be the first time he has seen rented equipment simply left for the workers to collect after their fun was over out of pure laziness.

Why they didn’t just close and tear down the stop he didn’t know. Chris sighed when he noted that the panels were still running overhead, but the cabling connecting them to the console had been yanked out. It didn’t seem to be damaged at all...

The cable was left dangling around the other side of the solar panels, pulled loose from its clamps on the side of the building. No teeth marks, no scratches... Immediately Chris’s good mood was soured by the realization that he had been had. No doubt the incessant calls from the “tour group” was simply a bunch of delinquents causing trouble by undoing the cabling for the power supply. Really, couldn’t kids these days think of better pranks to pull? Ones that didn’t involve him having to hike two miles into the brush to fix?

Chris grabbed ahold of the cabling and dragged it over to the other side of the dilapidated building to where the console was. All he needed to do to fix the issue was simply plug the cable back in and he could head back. A complete waste of his time. He’d have to go back for the proper tools to reattach the clamps, and possibly something to beat whatever troublemaker decided to do this. Oh, when he got his hands on them... Well, he couldn’t do much and still keep his job... but he’d certainly ---

Just as soon as the cable made contact with the metal console Chris was jolted from his thoughts, quite literally, by a sudden surge of electricity flowing through him. He stood for only a split second before the fuses within the console blew and the connection was cut, leaving him to collapse bonelessly on the grass.

The world funneled into blur of his surroundings, his body refusing to obey any and all orders to right himself. It felt like his entire body had seized up and simply ceased to respond. It was hard to breathe, impossible to speak, and increasingly difficult to stay awake.

Chris struggled to open his eyes as he heard footsteps rapidly approaching, someone calling out to him, calling for help.

His flickered open for a fraction of a second, completely unfocused as he willed himself to stay awake long enough to see who was hovering over him, touching him... He couldn’t even manage to keep them open enough for that. The voice sounded as if it had fallen into a tunnel as the sun suddenly set around him, leaving him breathless and oh so in need of sleep. 

 

Chris couldn’t remember how he managed to hurt himself, nor could he remember how he found his way to the cool grass. He couldn’t recall how the man had found him, or how the medics found his papers to identify him. He couldn’t figure how much time had passed from the accident until he was taken away, his vision blurred and time moving too slow to be real.

He does, however, remember the burning in his hand, the buzz in his head, and the hand tenderly on his neck. He recalls the sensation of being lifted, the roar of an engine nearby, and seeing the ground moving swiftly beneath him. And perhaps most startling of all; he remembers eyes on him, bright blue and clouded with panic. Thin lips mere inches from his, forming words of encouragement… a deep voice urging him to stay conscious, barely above a whisper, as if soothing a child; stay with him, calling his name… “Chris!”

 

It was night by the time he woke, but which night he wasn’t sure. It took him several seconds to force open his eyes, and even longer for him to orientate himself. The room around him was not one he had seen before; brick walls and sterile decorations, and far too chilly to be comfortable. He soon realized that he was not alone as a voice called to him from his right.

“You’re awake?” The voice was the same as before, much more calm this time, though weary with lack of sleep. The man from before, he wagered. Judging from his accent he was foreign, and Chris vaguely recalled someone awkwardly calling “mate” to him, as if forcing the Australian slang for the sake of being understood. British, probably.

It took quite the effort to turn to face him, a question on his lips. “…Where…?”

“The hospital.” The man cut him off before he could waste his breath asking the obvious question. He was thin, pale, with wide blue eyes that looked upon him with a mix of relief and worry. The dark shadows beneath them proved what he heard in his voice; he had not slept. But the smile on his face could brighten any room. The word “cute” crossed his mind, but he had little energy to voice it, especially for another man. But he was alive, and save for being stiff and the numbness in his limbs, he was well.

Suddenly the man was over him, reaching past his head for a switch above the bed, giving Chris a lovely view of his long, slender neck. “Nurse, Mr. Hemsworth has awoken.” He announced before retracting back, returning to the plush seat next to the hospital bed. Chris stared at him as if he was something to be marveled at, but he couldn’t figure out of it was because of his looks or the peculiar way he conducted himself.

For now, he decided on an easier question. “What happened to me?” He mumbled, surprised and unnerved by the weakness of his own voice. As if sensing his displeasure, his companion reached over to the bedside table, pouring a glass of ice water from the pitcher. “I was jogging the trail when I saw you get electrocuted at the rest area... It looked like someone had soaked the console with water.”

Those little... Chris suddenly felt the anger inside him grow tenfold. This was beyond a simple prank, it was bordering on a murder attempt! Immediately he tried to sit up as if he was intending to seek out those responsible for his injury. But before he could get anywhere, lean hands were pressed against his bare chest, pushing him back down. “Easy, Chris. You’ve been out for three days, I doubt you’re in any condition to fight.” Again with that soothing tone, as if Chris was a mere child that needed to be calmed so he could sleep again. It was nearly as infuriating as the idea of the troublemakers sabotaging the rest area. “How do you know my name?” He finally managed, eyes locking with the brilliant blue of the man holding him back.

The other let something of a nervous chuckle as he sat back down, scooting the chair closer and returning to preparing the drink for Chris. “The medics dug through your billfold so they could identify you. They took me along for the airlift since I was already doing a smashing job at keeping you conscious.” Chris wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not, but he couldn’t deny the slight blush on his cheeks when he realized the one calling to him as he lay in a daze was him... That and the other man’s hand was still resting on his chest, over his heart.

He wanted to ask all that happened; how it was that this man was there just as he was injured, about being airlifted out of the park and if any permanent damaged had been done to his person, but his mind seemed to be fixated on that hand, knowing it was the one cradling his neck while its owner spoke so sweetly to his semi-conscious mind. In the end, he settled on one question. “What is your name?”

The man laughed almost nervously, hand still firmly in place, completely still as if even the slightest motion would set off a claw trap of sorts, or maybe he just expected Chris to lash out at him and keeping perfectly still would prevent the much more built man from striking him. “Tom. Tom Hiddleston.”

“Tom...” Chris mulled the name over in his mind, blinking slowly to clear the image of his lips forming his own name over and over in his fuzzy half-dreams. “You’re not from Australia, are you?”

Again with the quiet, almost snickering laugh. “No, Britain. I transferred to La Trobe after the end of semester.” La Trobe, so he must have been older. Was it appropriate to ask someone you’ve just met’s age? Clearly his brain wasn’t in proper working order just yet, so he tried to keep his train of thought simple.

Finally the hand was pulled away and Chris swore he could feel tingling where it had once lain. The glass of water was offered to him, tipped to his lips. It was then that Chris realized how thirsty he was, having not drank anything since leaving the nature center three days prior. He drank it down, enjoying the crisp coolness that enveloped his dry mouth. Tom faintly chuckled for a reason he could not comprehend as he pulled the glass back, setting it aside. He murmured a thank you just as the nurse arrived to check him over.

A short examination later and the nurse proclaimed that Chris could go home as soon as he regained the feeling in his limbs again. At first he thought he was fit to go, but no sooner did he sit up right to stand was he falling forward, legs still feeling as though they were asleep. Pins and needles. “Easy, easy...!” Before he could become reacquainted with the floor, courtesy of gravity, those wiry arms steadied him, helping him to lean against the side table. “You’re going to hurt yourself like that.” Again with that tone; Chris wasn’t sure whether to get angry at him for speaking to him like a child or let the blush creeping up his neck flow as it wished to. Either way, he couldn’t deny that he was grateful for the help. He just hoped he had a job to go back to once he could walk again.

With a bit of effort Tom was able to hoist Chris back onto the bed. No hidden muscle to be had there; the Brit was built like a runner, all wiry limbs with all his strength in his legs. The complete opposite to Chris’s more robust structure; the body of a boy raised in the outback chasing livestock and swimming in the ocean currents. At least they were about the same height from what he could tell.

“I have to head back to my place.” Said Tom once Chris was settled again. “I’ve let my flatmate have a run of the place and I fear he’s turned the whole lot on its head.” Regardless of what horrors that could entail, Chris still smiled. He always seemed to be smiling, at least with his mouth. “Can I bring you anything?”

Chris slowly shook his head, a wave of exhaustion overtaking him. What time was it anyway? How was Tom even allowed to stay this late? And now that he thought of it, did his parents know he was in the hospital?

Questions left unanswered, Tom reached into his shirt pocket and set what seemed to be a slip of paper on the nightstand. “I guess give me a ring if you think of anything. I’ll stop by tomorrow if you’re still here.”

“Right... Thanks, mate.” He was mumbling. Was he that tired? From the corner of his eye he saw that smile again as Tom slid his hand over the light switch, leaving Chris to sleep. Before he drifted off to dreamland once again he went over the events in his mind, how is dumb luck had saved him, and how he should thank Tom for helping him.


	2. Chapter 2

Through sheer force of will, Chris had himself discharged from the hospital the following day. He still felt light-headed and his limbs a bit numb, but aside from the burns on his right hand he considered himself well enough to go home. At the front desk he claimed his belongings, a prescription for the pain should he need it, and headed out on his way.

Just his luck he wound up in a hospital a good hour away from his apartment. No wonder they decided to airlift him over anything else. Now that he thought of it, the park was a good twenty kilometers away from any sort of emergency service. Not the ideal place to be electrocuted and nearly die.

First matters first; he needed to get back to his flat and get proper clothes on so, and possibly get back to work. As much as he loved being able to simply sit around and enjoy the not-so-earned vacation, he’d much rather be earning his living. Chris pulled out his mobile, noting the numerous missed calls from his mother and a few from his boss. Did the hospital really not inform his parents? Well, he wasn’t a minor, so they really weren’t required to, but wouldn’t they at least call his next of kin?

He’d figure that later. Chris dialed up his boss at the park. Maybe he’d be able to bum a ride back to his place from him since he was injured on the job. From what the nurse desk said his treatment had been covered by WorkSafe Victoria, so he didn’t have to worry about the bills. Good ol’ workers’ compensation!

The phone rang thrice before his boss answered, sounding frazzled and worn. Must have been a great day at work. “Organ Pipe Park Services, McGrady speaking.”

“Hey, mate, it’s Chris. Busy day up there?”

There was a sudden shuffling of papers and the tone of his boss’s voice change drastically. “Chris! God damn, boy, you scared us to hell! What happened up there?” Chris took a moment to explain what had happened at the rest area, how someone had sabotaged it as a prank, and how he had spent the last few days in the hospital recuperating. Overall he was he was rather proud of the fact that he made it out of that situation in one piece; a testament to his endurance. All this came as no surprise to McGrady, it seemed. “WorkSafe has been down our throats since it happened, I tell you. You’re lucky someone was around when it happened or we’d never had found you!”

That much he knew already. If Tom hadn’t been there... _Right, I should call Tom, too. Tell him I’m out._ “Well I’m up and about now. When can I come in? I missed a few days.”

The other end of the line grew strangely quiet, save for the shuffling of paperwork. McGrady sighed heavily and Chris just _knew_ his boss was kneading at the crease between his brows. “That’s the thing; WorkSafe is on our arse for hiring a kid without licensing. We can comp you for part of your wages, but we can’t have you back, mate.”

Chris was silent, listening to his boss explain the legalities of the situation. So even after all that, he had lost his job? “Boss, look, I need to work. I’ve only a few weeks of break left, but...”

“Chris, it’s just out of the question! If something else were to happen---“

“Nothing else is going to happen! Come on, boss, I _need_ to work!”

McGrady sighed heavily, at a loss as to what to do. He shuffled through some more papers, and a creak of wood denoted that he had stood from his desk. “Chris, I’m sorry. It’s out of my hands... Look, are you still at the hospital? Give me an hour and I’ll drive you back to your flat. We’ll talk more then.”

With a sigh he relented, taking a seat on the curb outside the front entrance. So much for getting back to normal.

 

 

For a long while Chris stared at his mobile contemplating his next move. He had just lost his job, which defeated the purpose of coming to the mainland in the first place. The money his parents sent wouldn’t cover his rent, and he couldn’t call and ask for more. His parents weren’t bad off by any means, but he had two brothers, one still living at home, and they were against the idea of him staying the summer on the mainland anyway. He couldn’t in good conscious beg for more money, and the very prospect of returning to Phillips Island with his tail between his legs was out of the question. He could call a friend and see if they could spot him the cash, or maybe cut his losses and ask for a couch. But most of his mates from school had gone their separate ways, choosing university over the thirteenth year he opted for. His prospects were becoming more and more dim the more he thought on them. Regardless of what he chose, he’d have to find a decent paying temporary job before anything else.

Five weeks until the end of break and he could opt for a place near campus...

Until then, he was, as they say, royally boned.

He was jostled from his thoughts by his phone buzzing with a new message. A quick glance to the screen showed it was a number he didn’t have listed in his contact list. Curious, it was a phone out of Melbourne, so it must have been someone local. With a few button presses he brought the message up. A single word:

_Chris?_

Well, they had the right number. Now to figure who it was. He tapped the reply quickly.

_yeah whos this?_

A few moments passed, and another message.

_Oh good afternoon! It’s Tom. From the hospital?_

The way he put it made it sound like he expected Chris to forget who he was, as if dragging his fried arse from the forest was no big deal. Chris hammered out another message before saving the number in his contact list.

_yeah hows it going mate?_

Another moment, then a reply.

_Fairly good. They said you went home today. I take it you’re feeling better?_

Chris paused to wonder how Tom got ahold of his number, but that didn’t matter much, did it? He wanted to call him anyhow. _Fine as I can be. want to meet for drinks? i want to thank you_

This time the response took much longer to come through and Chris thought that perhaps he had offended the man with the request. But British drank, right? No reason for them not to, and if he was going to La Trobe he _had_ to be of legal drinking age... And jobless or no, he kind of owed Tom a few cold ones for the whole not letting him die in the woods thing.

Finally his phone buzzed with Tom’s answer. _Barkly’s off of Heidlburg?_

The blonde smirked; _be there at 2100 mate_

                Barkly’s was a little pub just off the strip that he had heard much of, but never bothered going. He thought it strange since it seemed to be something of a tourist attraction, but then again, he avoided tourists at all cost. Being born and raised in Australia taught you that, since many of the more common living spaces were riddled with foreigners in sunglasses and fanny packs taking pictures of the wildlife, people included. For instance, Phillips Island where his folks lived. It was known for their penguins that would come up onto the beach, causing all of the coastal areas to become bombarded with sunburnt people taking photographs of the wildlife. It made surfing during the winter months very difficult, for you’d have to wade past said tourists to get to the beach.

                Thankfully with it being the middle of off season, the pub had mostly locals in it; with the exception of at least one foreigner whom sat at the far end of the bar, twiddling a menu between his fingers with an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. Funny, he hadn’t expected Tom to smoke.

                He approached the bar with a smirk on his face, mustering the air confidence he usually carried around him. Chris tapped Tom on the shoulder, and tried not to laugh when the older man nearly dropped the cigarette he was trying to light when he whirled around to meet Chris’s gaze. “You don’t go to bars much, do you, mate?” The Australian asked with a bit of a laugh in his voice. Chris wasn’t by any means a skittish fellow and was generally very vibrant and friendly in a crowd. His first meeting with Tom had been a fluke since he was drugged up on painkillers and sleep. Now that he was up and around again, he was much more like himself than before and was trying to make his true colors show. Tom noticed this and relaxed a little, setting the unlit cigarette aside. “Your pubs are markedly different than the ones I am used to.”

                “No fish and chips?”

                Tom laughed, “That’s not all we eat at pubs. There are meat pies... and a lot of beer.”

                “Beer is generally served at pubs.” Chris rolled his eyes before turning to the waiter and ordering some cheap brand of scotch, one more akin to bath water than actual liquor. He intended to pay for Tom’s drink so he was going low budget for his. “What do you want to drink?”

                Tom once again fiddled with the menu, a little bewildered, but seeming to get the hang of it now that Chris was around. “Draft is fine.” His companion nodded and told the order to the bartender, who served up the glasses to their respective diners. Tom was first to down his, as if he needed the liquid confidence to calm his nerves. His eyes kept flitting to the cigarette sitting on the tray beside him, as if he was resisting some sort of urge. “You all right, mate?” Chris queried, noticing his jittery behavior.

                As if his words had made him aware of his shaking, Tom took a deep breath and calmed himself, taking the cigarette into his hands and rolling it between his fingers before pocketing it. “Nerves, I guess.” He muttered, offering a smile to Chris. Maybe the pub was a bad idea... “Do you smoke?” He asked, turning the topic to the cigarette to Tom had just pocketed. The older man shook his head, the curls bouncing from side to side with him. “When I get nervous, but I’m trying to quit. It’s terrible for my voice.”

                Chris snort and took another swig of his drink, glancing to his companion. “You look like you’re expecting to get dragged into a bar brawl for looking at someone the wrong way. Relax, mate, not all Australians are roughnecks like the media makes us out to be.”

                “So you don’t wrestle crocodiles and poke poisonous snakes with sticks?”

                “Only on Wednesdays.”

                The two shared a laugh and sipped at their drinks, Chris stopping to order some potato wedges for them to eat so neither got too drunk too fast. Whether it was the light-hearted conversation or the alcohol in his system, Tom seemed to be calming down considerably. This made Chris smile. “So, why Australia? I would have figured a guy like you would want to stay in the motherland.”

                Tom quirked a brow at the ‘guy like you’ part, but decided to ignore that. “I wanted to see the world. It’s my last two years of University, I thought it’d be worthwhile to spend it abroad.”

                “So you chose good ol’ Victoria. Good choice, if I had to choose. I’m going to school here too.”

                “Oh? Not La Trobe, right?” _What do you mean, not La Trobe?_ Chris ignored the connotations and instead simply answered the question. “No, I’m opting into the whole Thirteenth year business. I’m at Heathmont.”

                “Thirteenth year?”

                “Yeah, it’s kinda like junior college... I don’t really know what I want to major in yet.” Chris knocked back the rest of his scotch and ordered another. This would probably be his last night to live it up, so he was going to make the best of it. Tom took this information in and sipped his drink, a thoughtful look on his face. “You’re a lot younger than I thought...”

                “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re not one of those creepers, are you?”

                Tom belted a laugh and set his glass aside, folding both his arms atop the table as he spoke. “No, just that you looked older than me.”

                “And how old are you?”

                “Twenty-one next month.”

                Oh. Well, that would explain him being a university student. Still Tom did not look his age. He was tall but very spindly, with little muscle on his arms and the face of a teenager. It may have been the Brit in him, but he had rather large, expressive eyes. Blue, he noticed, though in the dim-lighting of the pub they appeared almost gray. Perhaps another reason he appeared younger was the cinnamon colored curls atop his head. Even if he was older, he still looked like a kid.

Chris grabbed his second round of drink and took a sip. “Eighteen, but I can still drink you under the table.”

His companion finished his glass and nodded to the barkeep as he delivered their potato wedges. “You look like you could. You’re built like the models they put in those “Visit Australia” flyers.” He stated plainly, but turned red right after, as if realizing what he had just said. In an attempt to hide his blush, he went for the potato wedges.

“Are you hitting on me, Tom?” Chris asked as a half-joke, half-inquisition. After all, Tom did kind of look the type.

The ginger next to him dabbed a bit of grease from his lips, glancing wide-eyed at Chris. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was just saying you’re cut... I mean, you’ve a nice build... Erm...”

Again Chris laughed, though this time it was to break the tension and perhaps cut Tom a break as well. Poor guy was already out of his element and booze only did so much. Another subject change was in order. “So why exactly were you up at the arse end of Organ Pipe anyway? The only people who go up there are dope smokers and nature addicts.” And thus far, he assumed Tom was neither. Tom set his mug at the end of the counter as if he was cutting himself off from drinking too much, a little sign of restraint. “My flatmate said it was a good place to go if I wanted to run without bumping into tourists.”

“Your flatmate sent you up that way in that heat?”

Tom shrugged, acting nonplussed about it. “He said a friend recommended it. I rode my bike up there.”

Chris tilted his head and finished his second scotch, enjoying the burn as it went down. He could already feel the alcohol taking effect on his senses, and he really couldn’t be arsed to care. Tom was a good guy, and he could throw him if things went awry. The very thought of him lifting the spindly bloke next to him and tossing him across the bar made him snort again. The ginger next to him caught it and shot him a look, “Is that funny? You work there, don’t you?”

“It’s not that. It’s just...” He trailed off, debating on whether or not to order another round for himself. Tom had already stopped drinking. “I feel like I can’t thank you enough. If you hadn’t been up there among the dope smokers and nature addicts, I’d be vulture food.”

Again the red was creeping up Tom’s neck and he was doing his best to seem indifferent to it. “It’s nothing, really. I was just doing what anyone would do if they saw... I mean, I was surprised you were still alive. You just... dropped...” He trailed off, his bright eyes darkening briefly. For the first time Chris realized how frightening it must have been for him to witness someone possibly falling down dead in front of him. He recalled the brief flashes of his eyes as he called to him, how terrified he must have been as the paramedics told him to try and keep him awake when with every passing minute he slipped further and further into unconsciousness.

“Tom.” Chris looked him dead in the eye, glass in hand. “It’s not _nothing_ ; you saved my life. A lot of people would’ve just passed by and not even stop to see if I was okay. But you stayed and you got me help. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here.” He took another swig just to hide the slight signs of embarrassment on his face. “So... Thanks, mate.”

After his little speech Tom’s eyes didn’t leave him, not once. It was almost like he wanted to say something but didn’t have the nerve to, so instead he stared back at him with that confused, almost lost expression in those big blue eyes. In the end, it was Chris who broke the silence. “Anyway, enough of this morbid shit. How about another round? I’m paying.”

And just like that, the tension was broken, and Tom smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

                The first thing that came to mind was the pulsing ache in his temples. Well, less came and more barged into his skull with a battering ram and trumpets to announce its arrival. It had been a good long time since he had drank himself into a hangover the next morning, and even the light twittering of the city birds was enough to make him want to bury himself beneath the blankets until the sun set.

                Thankfully it was cloudy outside, the promise of rain to break the heat that had lingered over the city for the fast few days. For the first five minutes of his consciousness he laid there with his eyes scrunched tightly closed, trying to collect his thoughts. He remembered meeting Tom at Barkly’s, having a few drinks... And how those few quickly turned into more as soon as Tom’s flatmate had dropped in unexpectedly. He lost count on how many rounds he had, and the night seemed to fade out about the time they had moved away from the bar and into a tiny booth with Tom sandwiched between him and his flatmate. What was his name? Rob? Was Rob his name?

                Chris groaned and rolled onto his side, feeling the side effects from the night prior taking its toll on his body. His limbs ached and his back was sore, and his stomach felt like it was dead set on turning itself inside out just to spite his liver. A little voice in the back of his head told him that he probably shouldn’t have drank at all while still on painkillers, but another simply told it to sod off.

                Slowly his brain came out of the fog the liquor had put it in and he realized two things. First, was that he was in a bed that was far too comfortable to be the flimsy cot he was using at his apartment and the sheets smelled like they had been washed in the last week. The second was that there was something warm pressed against his back, curling up over his shoulder. He tried to turn over to knock whatever it was off him, but realized it didn’t move as easily as he would have imagined. Chris’s eyes flew open when his hungover mind realized it wasn’t some inanimate object, but someone lying next to him with an arm around his shoulder, _cuddling_ him.

                Quickly the blonde turned onto his back, grabbing for the arm and throwing it off him. Only then did his eyes fall to the curly-haired Brit that was still peacefully sleeping next to him. There was a flash of panic and without thinking twice about his actions, said Brit was shoved off the bed to the floor. With a startled cry Tom collided with the carpet as Chris threw the sheets off of him and backed away as if he needed to protect himself. “Whoa, mate, what are you doing?!” He shout, the sheets held protectively over his bottom half as if expected himself to be nude.

                Tom righted himself on the floor, leaning against the couch that was pushed against the far wall, blearily staring up at Chris. “Well, up until a minute ago, I was _sleeping_.” He retorted, not so fond of being shoved from his own bed in the morning. But instead of attempting to get up and get back into bed, he simply sat there, nervously watching Chris’s every move.

                “Look, mate, I appreciate you helping me and all, but I... I am not into _that_.” He defended, still holding the sheets before his crotch. Just what was he expecting? His brain was doing things without informing him of them first, and he quickly realized they were both clothed and that there was no sign of foul play anywhere.

                The man on the floor looked both upset and offended by his words, but fought to keep his cool. “Good morning to you, too, Chris. Do you always throw your friends from their beds in the morning?”

                Realization dawned on him. The room he was in, hell, the bed he was in, it wasn’t his and he wasn’t anywhere near his own place. “...Where am I?”

              Tom chuckled light-heartedly, still firmly planted on the floor. “My flat. You don’t remember anything of last night?”

                Finally Chris settled onto the bed, no longer feeling the need to guard his loins from a suspected attacker. “I remember drinking with you and your flatmate... but I think I blacked out.” In fact he was sure he had blacked out, and judging by the aches and pains in his limbs and the stinging in his palm from the electrical burns, he had been rough about it. “Yes, you blacked out. Rob tried to get your address out of you so we could call you a cab, but you were too far gone. So we brought you back here.” Tom chuckled softly, the sound coming out more as a snort, and he licked his dry lips. “You are an interesting drunkard, I’ll give you that.”

                The heat rose up into Chris’s cheeks and he realized what an ass he must look like at that moment. He frowned and scoot to the side of the bed, the sheets discarded behind him. “And how did I end up in your bed, exactly?” He queried, still eyeing Tom suspiciously. The ginger once again glanced away for a split second before answering. “Well, we did leave you on the couch to sleep it off... How you ended up in my bed, I do not know.”

                So it was his fault. Chris really did feel like an ass now. _Note to self, do not mix pain medication and booze..._ He sighed and buried his face in his hands, scrubbing at his eyes to ward away the aches of his hangover. “I can’t even remember leaving the bar...” He did, however, remember Tom pressed against him in that tiny bar booth as the three of them took turns playing drinking games. They were so close, and he remembered staring at Tom’s lips...

                A sudden feeling of dread filled his chest and Chris unburied his face to look at the man who was finally getting up off the floor. “Tom, last night, did I... Did I do anything weird?”

                At those words Tom froze in place, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights. For a split-second he looked frightened, a fear that Chris knew not the root of clouding his bright eyes. Then he looked away, running a hand through his curly locks as he shakily answered. “No, nothing, you just talked about losing your job and trying to make ends meet. That’s all.”

                “Oh...” Chris exhaled a sigh of relief then groaned in pain. “Shit, I still gotta figure that out, too...” The younger man growled in frustration and stood, swaying lightly and hissing as his legs protested and his head threatened to fall off if he dared move again so suddenly. _Okay, drinking bad. Drinking very bad._ He chastised himself over and over as he went about the room to gather his sparse belongings. There was much to do and little time to do it, and he was already behind schedule. “I need to get home and shower.”

                “Do you want a ride?” Tom offered, his expression once again worried. What was this? Why the sudden nerves around him? Maybe something had happened after all...

                Regardless, Chris didn’t really feel like pursuing the truth at that moment. His head hurt enough as is. And he had a feeling that being around Tom when his brain was all muddled like it was then would only make things worse. “No, thanks mate. Just point me to the bus stop and I’ll head back. I’ve bothered you enough already.”

                “It’s not a bother, Chris.” Tom corrected, trying to put the laugh back in his voice and only managing to sound nervous. “I was to stop by work soon anyway... At least let me offer you a ride.”

                All these talks of getting rides from Tom wasn’t doing his overactive imagination any good. But he had to admit he really didn’t feel like dealing with the bus at that moment, and he could save the few extra dollars this way... In the end, he relented. “Fine... Sorry to put you out.”

                Tom’s winning smile returned, the corners of his eyes crinkling ever so slightly. “Not put out at all, Chris.”

 

 

                The ride back to Chris’s apartment was just about as awkward as him waking up next to Tom in bed. It seemed neither could muster a conversation topic, and the questions seemed to hang in the air without anyone willing to reach for and answer them. Instead of trying to make small talk, Chris switched between staring outside the window of Tom’s borrowed car and Tom himself. He could not help but notice how tense he was, how he kept licking at his dry lips, tapping the steering wheel as he drove, and avoided making eye contact with Chris at all costs. More and more it was becoming apparent that something had happened the previous night that Tom was not willing to admit. It only served to make him more edgy with each passing block.

                Finally, he spoke, as if he too had grown weary of the silence. “Are you sore at all?”

                The question set off alarm bells in Chris’s head. “Sore?” He repeated, making it as though he wasn’t sure what he was talking about. Tom ventured a peek at his expression before snickering nervously. “Do you remember what you did last night?”

                _Red flag! Red flag!_ “What did I do?”

                “Well, after we left the bar and started heading back to Rob’s place, you ran off into the park and jumped into the fountain and attempted to climb it.”

                What.

                Chris stared at him with a quizzical expression and even he could not help but laugh at the bizarre tale. “Seriously? The fountain in central?”

                Tom chuckled as well, running his hands through his hair. “I had to coax you down because you claimed you were going to duel the man on the horse, and you fell hard on the stone... But you were laughing so we figured you were fine.”

                Now Chris was in a fit of laughter that completely diffused the awkward silence they had fallen into. Suddenly the soreness was explained and even though he had apparently made a complete fool out of himself while wasted, Tom still thought it was a fun time. Success.

                The car slowed outside of the highrise apartment that Chris was staying in. The car brake’s squeaked a little as it lurched forward before coming to a complete stop. Chris grimaced at the sudden vehicular rudeness and Tom offered an apologetic glance to him. “You feel better now?” He queried with a bit of a piteous look. Chris nodded, scrubbing at his eyes once more before undoing his seatbelt. “Sorry I got completely smashed. I can usually handle my liquor better.”

                “You probably shouldn’t mix medication with alcohol, but I am not a doctor, so...” Tom chuckled and placed the car in park. He lounged against his seat and looked to Chris expectantly, waiting for something... but what? The gears in Chris’s head were far too oiled for them to be working properly at that moment, so he just gathered his things and exited the car.

                “Chris?”

                Before he could make a clean getaway to his apartment, Tom’s voice called him back. The man was leaning out the window now, his brows furrowed in worry. “I’m sorry about this morning, you know... when I...” A raised hand cut him off, Chris shaking his head. “I’m not mad, mate. It’s not like you’re trying to get with me or anything.” He reassured, smiling as he waved him off. “I’ll message you later. Thanks for the ride.”

                What Chris didn’t see as he disappeared into the apartment complex was the saddened look in Tom’s eyes, and the slump in his shoulders as he put the car in gear and drove off.


	4. Chapter 4

                “Thank you for applying, but you’re just not what we’re looking for.”

                Chris nodded and with a downcast look he exited the third interview that week, rejected.

                During the summer it was almost always difficult to find a decent job. Not to mention the fact that summer was more than halfway done, and pretty much everything he was qualified for was taken up by others in his age-group. Not having a degree or any sorts of connections on the mainland was really doing a number on his chances of finding work to make his rent. And with the deadline for his rent quickly approaching, he feared he’d be heading back to Phillip’s Island before the week was out.

                He was disappointed in himself for not planning ahead better; while the night of binge-drinking never made it onto his bank card, the money for food and bus fare had. And what he had left from his last paycheck was quickly dwindling into the double digits with just every day expenses. He had applied just about every place he could think of for temp work, but it seemed that no one was in need of a spry young teen that was good with his hands.

                For a moment Chris entertained the idea of becoming a stripper just to make some extra cash, but while he had the body for it, he had the grace of a two-legged dingo. Not the sort that would make good money on dancing... _Why am I even considering this? Mom would die of a heart attack if she knew..._

                Chris sighed and flopped onto the bench at the bus stop, checking his wrist watch to see how long he’d be stuck there wearing a three-piece suit in this heat. Twenty minutes at least, by the looks of it. He’d need a shower by the time he got back to his apartment.

                As he sat and mourned the loss of a perfectly good button-down shirt to the wrath of the sweat he was no doubt pouring by then, his phone rang. Another unknown number, he mused, but with him flying all over the city applying for jobs he wasn’t about to let the anonymity of the caller keep him from answering. “Hello?”

                “This Chris?” The caller sounded tired, a little gruff, but young. Not exactly the voice he expected to hear from someone in need of a maintenance worker. Curious. “Yeah, I’m Chris.”

                The man on the other end snickered before continuing. “You sound so serious sober. It’s Rob.” Chris fought to drudge the name from memory, and it was apparent, since Rob continued on the other end. “Tom’s flatmate?” A pause, “You remember me, right?”

                _Vaguely_. Chris commented. Rob was there that night at Barkly’s with Tom when he had drank himself into a mountain climber. He nodded as if the man was watching him as he spoke, “Oh, yeah, sorry Rob, it’s been a day, mate.”

                “Yeah I heard you were job hunting. You’re a repairman, right?”

                “Maintenance, yeah...” He didn’t dare mention his lack of credentials. That had gotten him in this predicament in the first place. That, and the kids who had sabotaged the circuit box.

                “You interested in doing a little work for me?” The man began, and in an instant Chris was standing at attention. “Well yeah, what kind of work?”

                “Just some repairs around the house. Nothing huge, I just don’t have time to do them and finding a decent fixer that won’t charge an arm and a leg is a pain in the ass. I’ll pay you, of course.”

                Rob would pay him to fix up things around the flat? He couldn’t thank his lucky stars enough. “Sure, mate! When do you want me over?”

                “I’ve got work comin’ up here in a bit, but how does tomorrow morning sound?”

                Chris grinned from ear to ear and did a little jig in excitement. “Sounds great, Rob. See you then.”

 

                The house was just as he remembered it; a small cottage crammed into an over-populated suburb in the middle of the area’s major housing district. It was a rental, but that was about all he knew. From what little he could recall from their drunk escapades, he gathered that Rob was the owner of the property, and was renting the rooms out to different folk to cover bills. He couldn’t blame him, really. The place wasn’t huge, but it would still be nicer than the public housing flats. And if you got a proper group together it would make for a decent income. But so far, it seemed the only one willing to buy into such a prospect was Tom.

                Tom who was mysteriously absent when he arrived, dressed in an old wife-beater tank and paint-stained khakis with the hems torn from projects passed. His work clothes, and it showed by the wear. Yet somehow he felt the most comfortable in such an outfit. He needn’t constantly check his appearance or prim his collar, and it was perfectly acceptable to allow his hair to become a sweaty mess. Nothing was more pleasing than a good workout... Well, perhaps a beer and a good workout. Yes, that was the best.

                Chris knocked upon the door, scratching at his chin as he glanced around the front porch. A worn veranda with a dilapidated wrought iron swing off to one side, a few potted plants on the railing in dire need of water. Not a moment later the old wooden door opened, Rob pushing the screen out so Chris could enter. “Hey, thanks for coming by.” He greeted quietly, apparently just rising from a long slumber. Tom had mentioned something about Rob and him working opposite schedules... “Not a problem, mate. Thanks for the work.”

                The blonde was lead into a small, somewhat cramped living room. A large bay window lined most of the front-most wall, an old couch against the wall beneath it. Across from it was a chipped T.V. cupboard that housed a rather recent model of LCD screen and current gen game consoles. Just past that was the archway into a small dining room and kitchen. To his right, two flights of stairs, a half flight up to a set of rooms, and a full flight down into the basement. The basement... That was where Tom’s room was, wasn’t it?

                “The gutters need to be cleaned out, first off. It was a mess when it rained here last. Then there’s a pipe leaking beneath the bathroom sink upstairs. And if you’ve the time today, the lawn needs mowing too.” Rob rattled off the list as if the tasks had been needing done for some time. Chris could not help but wonder what it was that Rob did all day that he didn’t have time to take care of these rather simple tasks himself. Oh well, it was an income; an income that was sorely needed.

                Rob began up the stairs, going on about the leak in the pipes and how he just couldn’t figure the source of it. As they walked Chris noted numerous black and white photographs lining the walls; flowers and animals and baroque depictions of old towns in panorama. Perhaps this was what Rob did for a living.

                After a good twenty minutes of detailed instructions from Rob, Chris was set to work. A simple toolbox was his only means of fixing the numerous problems the rundown house seemed to have, but it would serve his purpose just fine. At least he wasn’t asking him to plaster the sizeable hole that was in the foyer, presumably from a drunken fall. He hoped it wasn’t his own.

                The leak first, he decided. If it was just a loose pipe he could tighten it and be done with it, but if it was something like a crack or dried caulking, he’d have to make a run to the hardware store before finishing. The goal was to get the lawn work done before it became too hot. The last thing either of them needed was for him to get heat stroke while mowing. How embarrassing would it be for Tom to have to sit at his bedside again?

                _Now that I think of it... I haven’t really talked to Tom since that morning after the bar..._ A slight twinge of guilt struck his chest, distracting him from his work of inspecting the piping beneath the basin in the bathroom. He had been rather cruel to Tom, hadn’t he? In his panic he didn’t even give him proper time to explain what was going on. It almost made him want to refuse Rob’s offer just to avoid seeing him just a little longer, but his funds were increasingly tight and doing so could rightly screw him out of house and home.

                After a bit of investigation work, Chris discovered the source of the leek to be a crack in pipe itself, which would have to be replaced. For the time being he could fix it with a bit of duct tape, which had been Rob’s suggestion. He would fetch another pipe from the hardware store after work, he said, and would let Chris fix it the following day. Onto the mowing.

                The mowing itself wasn’t difficult; the heat and the not so reliable lawn-mowing was the problem. It was clear why Rob never really bothered to do the yard if his appliances were this troublesome to deal with. It took him well over an hour just to get the small plot done between having to re-start the mower and turn it on its side to figure why it had stopped in the first place. By the time he was done he decided to never agree to the task again, unless he was allotted a rental... or maybe a weed whacker. Hell, a manual push-mower without an engine would have done the job quicker.

                By the time he finished it was already noon, the sun high in the sky and the air completely still. It was going to be another blistering day, and of course he was spending it on a ladder cleaning out the gutters of the small house.

                It was quick work, from what he could make of it, but the heat that was slowing him down. By the time he was halfway through the chore his shirt had been discarded and his khakis hiked up to his knees. He was contemplating losing the shorts when a voice called from down below.

                “Working hard?”

                For as simple as the question was, the sudden noise threw him off, and Chris lost his footing on the fifth step of the ladder, leaning just too far backwards and plummeting from his perch. Fortunately it wasn’t a terribly long fall, and it only left him staring dizzily up at the sky as a set of blue eyes stared down at him, lips trying not to laugh. “You are a walking hazard, Chris.”

                “Tom!” The man sat up, rubbing the back of his head to ease the pain... and the embarrassment. The man he had been dreading seeing knelt next to him, his hand cool against the sunburnt skin of his shoulder. He did his best not to flinch away, “When did you get here?”

                Tom chuckled sheepishly, brushing grass clippings from Chris’s sweaty blonde locks. “I just walked up... What are you doing here cleaning my gutters?”

                The way he spoke, did he not know? “Rob is having me work on the house... Said he was looking for someone to pay anyhow.” These words, along with the expression on Tom’s face in reaction to them, only proved his theory. He seemed almost sheepish now that he knew, as if all of this was planned against his wishes. “Well, it was nice of Rob to help, then. Perhaps now you’ll get to keep your place until vacation ends?”

                With a nod Chris stood, brushing off his pants and continuing to pick grass clippings from his person. “Hopefully. We didn’t discuss price, but whatever it is, it’s better than nothing.”

                Tom smiled almost shyly, picking up his messenger bag from where it had dropped in his rush to check on Chris’s condition. “How about a break? You look like you could use a drink...”

                _More than you would believe..._ Chris snarked mentally, but kept the snide remark to himself. He nodded and was lead to the porch, where he was ordered to sit as Tom disappeared into the kitchen.

                While his friend did who knows what inside, Chris made himself comfortable on the long bench that was set against the outer wall of the house. The heat was really something today, and he could feel the sweat dripping from his forehead in rivulets. His skin was burnt, but that didn’t matter much to him, as it just meant he’d have a darker tan come the following days. That was something he liked about his skintone; he could tan rather easy. His brothers called it the beach bum look. It suited him just fine.

                “Here, have a cold one.” Tom appeared from the front door, carrying to bottles of brew and offering one to Chris before sitting beside him. “You could probably use it with this heat.” He took it graciously, popped the top, and clinked it against Tom’s glass. “Cheers, mate.”

                “Cheers.” Tom replied with a bit of a chuckle, sipping his own drink.

                For a long moment they sat in a comfortable silence, Chris staring out at the roadway, watching the cars and pedestrians alike go by. He was keenly aware of Tom’s presence next to him, and the fact that his mind seemed to see fit to make him relive the incident from a few nights prior, and how he hurt him without knowing it. Thankfully, it was Tom that spoke first. “Say, about the other night...” He began, his drink hanging limply from his fingers. “I really didn’t mean to startle you.”

                “It’s fine, Tom.” Chris interrupted him before the conversation could steer back towards the thoughts he was trying to ignore. “Like I said, it’s not like you’re trying to get with me, so it doesn’t matter.”

                “I know that, but you were really startled by it, and I felt terrible after...”

                “Tom.”

                “I can imagine what you thought and I felt like such a _tosser_...”

                “ _Tom._ ”

                The older man stopped his babbling and stared at his companion, eyes wide, brow quirked, his mouth left hanging agape as if it was still awaiting its next phrase to utter. He looked absolutely panicked and bewildered and Chris had to keep himself from staring at him for too long before speaking. “It’s fine.” Even though it wasn’t quite, but seeing the man’s turmoil over it only made him feel worse for thinking such things about him. Tom was a nice guy. He and his friend were helping him out, and the guy had _saved his life_. He could at least give him the benefit of the doubt.

                Finally Tom lowered his gaze, his tongue running over his dry lips as he seemed to fight for words again. But just as it seemed he’d speak again, they were interrupted by the screen door opening. “Tom, Mattie just called. She needs our help for a shipment.”

                Tom’s head snapped up to see Rob standing at the door, already dressed in a pair of black slacks, a burgundy button-down, and a black apron. “Really? There’s more?”

                “Yeah, c’mon, we have to get down there so we can finish in time for lock-up.” Rob stepped off the porch and towards the car, twirling the keys on one finger. Tom watched him go for a moment before standing, smoothing out the wrinkles in his slacks before following. “I’ll call you.” He muttered before stepping off the porch. Rob glanced between the two of them before reaching into his pocket and flipping an envelope towards Chris. “Lock up when you’re done. Same time tomorrow?”

                Chris only barely caught the envelope before it hit the porch, nodding as Rob climbed into the car and started it up. He couldn’t help but stare dumbfounded as the two drove away, Tom’s gaze downturned, biting his lip as he seemed to do when he had something to say, but couldn’t.

                The two of them disappeared down the road, leaving Chris in their dust, both literally and figuratively. His gaze turned to the envelope in his hand and after carefully sliding his finger beneath the sealed flap, discovered it fill with cash. Two hundred... Far too much for what he was being asked to do, but enough to make his rent for the week. He’d have to thank Rob later... Or that would have been his thought if his mind wasn’t circling the hurt look on Tom’s face as he was forced away. What was going on, exactly? 


	5. Chapter 5

                “You’re asking for trouble, mate.”

                As soon as they were a block away, Rob broke the silence, calling Tom’s attention to him as he spoke, “You know that, don’t you?”

                “I’m afraid I do not know what you mean.” Tom defended, running a hand through his curly hair, eyes straying out the window, to the trees and buildings; anywhere but Rob.

                “Bull. How long have I known you, Tom?”

                “Online or in person?” He asked, trying to dodge the question. It wasn’t working well. The car slowed to meet a red light and Rob was nearly glaring at him, glowering even. “Tom.” He warned, eyeing him over his sunglasses. The ginger lowered his head almost subserviently, anxiously chewing his lip. “I’m sorry.”

                Seeing his reaction, Rob sighed, letting on the gas as they continued off again. “Look, I get it. Being in Australia is all new and exotic to you. When I first got here years back I was in the same position, and you think things will be different...” Another red light and Rob was looking at him again. Tom found himself praying for the traffic to ease up so they could get to their destination quicker. Anything to avoid this conversation. But no such luck. “Guys in Australia aren’t that different from the ones in England. Especially straight guys.”

                “It isn’t like that.” Tom defended himself, “We’ve just met, and he’s a friend if anything. We’ve hardly even hung out...”

                “But you like him.”

                “I can’t even say that, Rob. I don’t even have the right!” His voice rose in volume before he even realized, and with a slightly flushed expression he sunk back into his seat, ears burning as he continued. “Besides, he isn’t interested.”

                They rounded the corner, steadily approaching their destination. Yet even as they approached the tension did not let up. “Do you mean what happened after we went to the bar?” Tom nodded, wishing he could bury himself in the worn upholstery of his seat just to avoid having to explain anything. Rob sighed and pulled into a parking space. “That’s what I mean, Tom. That’s what I want to avoid. You’re my friend, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

                Tom sighed through pursed lips, scrubbing at his eyes to ward away the headache he could already feel forming. “I know, Rob. Thank you.”

                “No worries, mate.” The older man put the car in park and pulled the key from the ignition before undoing his seatbelt. “Just focus on work for now. Deal with blondie later.”

                The nickname somehow made the situation worse as a very vivid image of Tom and his shaggy blonde hair popped into Tom’s head. Oh, bugger, this was going to be a long shift.

                Matilda’s Coffee was a teensy little café nestled between a health food grocer and a thrift clothing shop. The owner, a beatnik leftover from the 60’s, had opened it when the demand for used books had begun to decline. The used books were still there, just as prominent as the coffee she sold, but at least the food and beverage kept the customers coming in. Selling a book or two was a good bonus as well.

                Aside from the owner and proprietor, there were a handful of employees, three of which were busily stocking bags of coffee and vegan friendly snacks on the shelves. It was a small shipment, not what Tom had expected, but based on their conversation in the car, he could see why Rob had brought him in. Anything to get him away from Chris who was currently sweating through his beat up tank-top, likely having to hike up his pants from the heat as he continued to work in the yard, the sun glittering off his---

                “Tom, you can asked Mattie for the book if you’re that into it.” A sardonic drawl interrupted his thoughts and Tom realized that he had spent an indeterminable amount of time holding a dog-eared copy of _Mr. Right is Out There_ and staring at it while he day-dreamed. Flushing, he quickly shelved the book and turned to his co-worker. Tall, slender, with half her dyed magenta hair shaved and heavy make-up around her eyes. “Sorry, Annette.” Tom apologized, quickly shelving the rest of the used books that Matilda had brought in. The woman next to him snickered and began assisting him with the task. “That gone, huh? Did you get dumped or something?”

                “That would involve me having someone to dump me.” He answered quickly, wondering just how much Rob had told her, if anything. Annette shrugged and moved onto the featured books, shelving some new releases that Matilda had ordered by authors she favored. “You’re just all mopey and sighing today. Figured it was either love sickness or you got dumped. So which is it?”

                “Neither, thank you.” He was not having this conversation again, not when he was so determined to not develop feelings for the very handsome, very _straight_ Chris Hemsworth. Rob’s words rang true; Chris had made it abundantly clear that he was not interested, even if the incident that had led to such a statement was an accident. And Tom was certainly not the type to throw himself at people whom he felt were attractive. His mother had raised him better than that, and no sun-kissed Australian stereotype was going to deter him.

                And yet, there he was, constantly thinking about said stereotype. Really, wasn’t he old enough not to stumble all over himself over some boy? He huffed and continued his task.

                “Oh for the love of... Rob! Tell your boyfriend to stop the wistful sighing before I hang him by his ankles and shake the schoolgirl out of him!”

                “Not his boyfriend, Annette.” Rob answered plainly, tossing a cardboard box onto a pile of garbage that one of them would have to haul out. Likely Tom by the way the night was going. “But I wouldn’t oppose shaking the schoolgirl out of him. He needs it.”

                “ _Rob!_ ” Tom swore if his cheeks got any redder that he’d blend into the burgundy wallpaper Matilda had hung. This only seemed to make Annette want to tease him more, it seemed, as she continued to prod him about it as they worked. Eventually Rob got sick of it and told her to lay off, but not before the younger boy was reduced to a wibbling mess trying to apologize and explain himself at the same time. For as eloquent the student could be, he seemed to have a terrible time when it came to social situations. Most of the time he was every bit the Shakespearean studied Humanities student his credentials claimed he was, but get him flustered and he got into such a tizzy that he couldn’t do simple math without stopping to count on his fingers.

                Finally the work was finished and Annette began the process of locking up the café, sending the boys out to do the dirty work while she completed the inventory list. And by boys, that ultimately meant Tom, seeing as Rob insisted on a smoke break before he lifted another finger. It really was no wonder the man had such a hard time getting photography gigs with how many times he had to step out to get his nicotine fix. Try shooting for a wedding when you need to stop mid-set for a cigarette.

                At least it was only boxes and a couple bags of garbage that needed walking out. The dumpster they used was situated at the end of the block, out of the way of pedestrian traffic so nothing unsanitary would muddle the shoes of a passerby. At least the night had cooled considerably since he had arrived, so the heat would not make the distance seem any longer.

                With his load tucked beneath his arms and in both hands, Tom made the trek down the street to the small alley that held the dumpster. It was quiet, with only a few pedestrians milling around, heading home with their purchases and talking about which bar to hit, couples walking hand in hand as they chatted discretely with each other, sharing little secrets between them. It was both warming and painful to see. Such a sight reminded him of a time not long ago when he could say he was in a similar situation; hushed messages on the sidewalk, sneaking touches when no one was looking, the flush of affection and, dare he say it, love across his cheeks.

                Better times, better forgotten.

                Tom rounded the corner to the alley and wandered into the darkness, his mind once again wandering to the blonde he had seen only hours before. Chris... That’s right, Chris was not into him, just as Rob had affirmed. He was a friend, a new friend for that matter, and it would be uncouth of him to even attempt half the thoughts he had. It was nothing but lust, Tom didn’t know enough about Chris to validate a relationship, he decided. Rationalize it, make it illogical, forget the fantastical thoughts of romance; that’s how you get hurt. That’s how you got hurt before...

                The garbage was flung over the edge of the metal bin and Tom allowed himself a moment of peace, or as much peace as one could get while sitting slump-shouldered in front of a rubbish bin filled with bags of rotting fruit and meat from a neighboring store. He attempted to clear his mind and talk himself down once more. Remember what Rob said, remember what happened before, remember...

                “Don’ move.”

                His thoughts were halted by something cold and hard being pressed against his back. A million scenarios of recent violent crime filled his addled mind in unison, news reels of broken bodies and mugshots filling his vision. Tom was tall, but thin, an easy target... Frozen in a sudden fear, Tom obeyed the order, standing there with hands at his sides, unable to move. “Empty yer pockets.”

                _Oh grand, am I being mugged? Lovely._ Tom did as he was told, fearing what exactly was being pointed at the middle of his back. A gun? A knife? Something else unspeakable? Fortunately, his wallet had been left in the break room along with his jacket, so the only thing that clinked to the ground was a pen, a few paper clips, and about enough coin to buy a bag of crisps from a snack machine.

                Unfortunately, this only seemed to royally piss off his attacker, who promptly grabbed him by the shoulder and twisted him around, slamming him violently against the dumpster. “Is that all ya got?!” He hissed in his face, pressing something cold against his cheek, which Tom quickly found to be a metal pipe. Oh _God_ , was he going to get beat with a pipe of all things? “I-I’m sorry! I don’t normally carry it wi---!”

                A sharp thunk against his cheek interrupted his plea and Tom found himself on the ground, his head spinning and aching as he fought to get to his feet. No sooner had he righted himself did something collide with his jaw, this time a fist. A chorus of pain sang through him as the thug took out his frustrations on him while he offered little resistance. _Let him do what he wants_ , he told himself, _He’ll get bored soon enough and stop...!_ He willed himself to stay as still as possible as the man lay into him, thankfully discarding the pipe early on. The blows only ceased when there was shouts from the entrance of the alley, the thug fleeing with little more than pocket change and blood to show for the attack.

                Tom lay in a daze, staring up at the cloudy night sky, trying to gather his senses. Sneakered footsteps thundered toward him, stopping just short of his prone form. He brought his arms up to cover his face, preparing for more blows. “Please... No more...” He pleaded through a split lip, the taste of blood filling his mouth with each word. “I’m sorry, I don’t have anything else... I’m sorry, please...!”

                “Tom?” That voice, he knew it. It wasn’t Rob or Annette, but...

                Strong arms lifted him into a sitting position, the scent of sweat and grass filling his senses. He felt warm, comforted, and in spite of the pain he was currently in he felt somehow safe just then. With one eye already swelling from a bruise he could barely make out the shape of the man that held him, and he smiled.

                The rest of the evening was a blur, but he continued to fixate on the warmth he felt. It didn’t matter how much pain he was in or how much grief he was going to get from Rob for being careless, he just wanted to savor the arms around him and the scent he was quickly falling in love with in spite of his efforts.

 

                As soon as Rob saw the state he was in, Tom was promptly corralled into the backseat of his car, wrapped in a blanket, and hauled off to the nearest Emergency Room. With him was his savior, an arm wrapped around his shoulders to keep him awake, keep him warm, and to make sure he didn’t get jostled too much by his roommate’s rather hectic driving. In a daze the only thing he could really manage was holding a cloth to his mouth, which his companion had to do for him a few times just to stem the flow from his split lip. All the while he continued to apologize for making trouble and insisting he was all right. No one believed him.

                The large amount of blood dripping from his face earned Tom a ticket to the head of the line at the hospital, and some painkillers and x-rays to go with the stitches he was going to need. As soon as the nurses heard what had taken place, she notified the police so they could make a report. Assault was becoming a real issue in Melbourne’s downtown, and Tom was not the first man to be dragged into the ER in such a state. That did little to comfort any of them, least of all the man who was keeping Tom upright as they spoke.

                The police patiently waited while the surgeons thoroughly drugged up Tom and stitched his lip shut, noting that it wasn’t life-threatening, but it could scar. One officer took his statement once he was able to speak again, an ice pack pressed to his lip as he managed to tell them about the assailants manner of speech and the weapon he used. Little else would be of help, but the officer did tell him he was lucky to get off without anything more serious happening to him.

                After the cop was finished with his statement, he left, allowing Rob into the room as he went to question the other witness. The older man’s face was grim, as if expecting terrible news, but seemed to lighten up a bit when he saw Tom conscious and aware. “What’d the doctors say?”

                Tom offered a small, slightly strained smile, the stitches pulling on his upper lip. “Concussion, but nothing broken. They said I could go home in the morning as long as I’m not the one behind the wheel.” The tension melted from Rob’s face and the smile returned. He quickly grabbed a chair from against the wall and pulled it next to Tom’s bed, taking much needed seat. “I’m glad. I’m kicking myself for not coming sooner. If I had gone with you like Anette asked...”

                “Rob, it isn’t your fault. Please, don’t beat yourself up over it.” The ginger insisted, reaching for his friend and patting him on the shoulder. “I got out of it alive, right?”

                “Yeah, because _that guy_ found you.” At the mention, Tom’s face grew tense, brows furrowing. “Is he still here?” He asked, a cautious tone in his voice. Rob nodded, hitching a thumb to the hallway. “Cops are getting his statement. He’s the only one that saw the guy who mugged you.” Relieved, Tom allowed his eyes to slip closed. Whatever it was they gave him for the pain was making him drowsy, not to mention the entire ordeal in general taking its toll. Nothing may have been broken but his body was covered in bruises and scrapes that made him ache in spite of the painkillers. At that moment he wanted to sleep, but first “I want to see him...” He murmured, eyes opening to gaze at his friend, his confidant.

                The paper blankets were pulled to Tom’s chin, Rob nodding slightly. “I’ll bring him in when he’s done with the police. Rest for a bit.” The younger man mumbled in agreement, nestling into the thin sheets to try and sleep.

                Out in the lobby the officers were just finishing collecting the information needed from the sole witness to the brutal crime. They had a descript and a location; all they could really hope for in a case for random violence like this. “All right Mister... Hemsworth, was it?”

                “Chris is fine.” He answered, already weary from all the excitement. The officer taking the statement nodded, going over his notes about the attack. “I think this is all we need for now. Your friend is really lucky to have you. Things could have ended differently if you hadn’t come to his aid.”

                All he got for a response was a tired nod, Chris’s gaze far off. The officers took that as a cue to leave and quietly excused themselves.

                For a long while Chris sat in the lobby, carefully examining the linoleum at his feet, counting the tiles around him, anything to get his mind off of the situation. The ride to the hospital had felt impossibly long as he sat in back, Tom curled at his side, continually apologizing for getting attacked, the weather, and the economic crisis, anything that he could possibly be blamed for in any remote way. More than once Rob had to turn at a stop light to tell him to be quiet and just sit tight until they got to the hospital. Chris wasn’t entirely sure whether he was hysterical or delusional. Meanwhile he could only feel anxious and fearful as he surveyed his injuries, panicking whenever Tom would become unresponsive.

                A heavy sigh escaped his lips and he slumped against the brick wall behind the bench he sat on. His eyes fell to the his hand, the burn that had already mostly healed, leaving a spidery scar on his palm. Would tom recover just the same? With only a small fleshy reminder to look back at and laugh?

                Footsteps announced the presence of another and Chris bolted to his feet, hoping for news. Shuffling down the hallway was Rob, hands in his pockets, looking just as exhausted as Chris felt. “How is he?” He quickly asked of the older man. Rob scratched at his cheek, face slack. “Concussion and bruising, and they stitched up his lip. He’ll be all right with some rest.” The blonde sighed in relief, a weight being lifted from his shoulders at the news. “I’m glad. With how off he was, I thought...” He shook his head, shoving that thought from his mind. Tom was all right, no need to think about what could have happened right now.

                “This isn’t the first time he’s ended up in a situation like this.” No sooner had the weight been lifted did it return two fold when Rob spoke. Chris stared, the worry lacing his response, “This has happened before?” With a grim nod, Rob continued as he took a seat on the bench. “It was last semester, before he decided to come here. Tom doesn’t like talking about it, just that someone he trusted let it happened.” His eyes fell to Chris, as if he was accusing him of something. What, Chris wasn’t sure, but he didn’t like it. More concerning was that this was not the first time Tom had been laid up. He felt compelled to ask him about it, to see what happened, who did it...

                “He won’t say... but I think it was his boyfriend at the time.”

                The anxious expression on Chris’s face melted into something more akin to shock. Tom’s... “...Boyfriend?”

                Rob nodded, “You didn’t know?”

                Chris shook his head, “I didn’t know he was...”

                “He’s not gay.” The elder quickly corrected. “He just... Wants an emotional connection. What’s between your legs doesn’t matter to him. He just likes who he likes, and that’s it.” It took Chris a moment to take this all in. He was quite sure there was a name for it, but he didn’t know it. It wasn’t that farfetched of an idea, and Tom really wasn’t the most masculine guy out there. It’s not like he’d just assume he was interested in men...

                ...But that was exactly what he had done, wasn’t it? He recalled the morning after their bar-hopping spree, how poorly he reacted to having Tom in his bed, and the hurt expression he wore when he affirmed that he understood because he _assumed_ Tom wasn’t after his nuts. Which he assumed right, but still. The guilt set in quickly and Chris averted his gaze, which only served to anger Rob. “If it bothers you, stay away from him.”

                “No!” Chris answered almost too quickly, face flushed. “No, it doesn’t bother me at all. I...” He sighed, raking a hand through his blonde locks, beginning to pace. “Just because he’s into guys doesn’t make him any less of a person, and no less a friend to me.” He stopped to face Rob, determination in his gaze. The expression on Rob’s face had changed into something less grim and more... happy. He stood and approached Chris, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “That’s what I wanted to hear. C’mon, I’ll take you to him.”

                Chris blinked, tilting his head to the side. “Was that some kinda test?”

                “Who knows.” Rob smirked, pulling his hand away and heading down the hall. “Tom sees you as a good friend, and he needs more of them here. Just know that if he gets hurt, it’s your funeral.” The warning was perplexing and Chris was really beginning to wonder who Rob was to Tom, and why he assumed he would be hurt so easily. Was Tom really that sensitive? But at the same time he apparently _had_ been hurt by the people he trusted before, enough to land him in the hospital at least. That alone angered him greatly. Of all people, Tom didn’t deserve such treatment...

                The two made their way to Tom’s room, Rob patting him on the back before quietly excusing himself. Something about having to open the shop in the morning and how he’d come get them after his shift. He left, leaving Chris alone in the small room with a sleeping Tom.

                The man lay asleep on the hospital bed, hooked to an IV drip to administer fluids and medicine. One half of his face was badly bruised, the right side of his upper lip stitched up to help it heal. Abrasions and contusions ran up and down his thin arms, making them appear almost smaller laying against the hospital sheets. Just seeing him like that weighed heavily in his chest. Was this how Tom had felt when he watched him sleep after the accident? Did he feel anxious as he watched him slowly breath, wondering if he’d wake soon?

                Before he realized what he was doing, Chris had taken the seat next to Tom’s bed and reached for his hand, gently stroking the soft skin, whispering for him to wake up. Gradually Tom began to stir, eyes flickering open as he turned his head to face Chris.

                The smile on his face was lop-sided, but genuine. In spite of the awkwardness it must have been creating, Chris’s hand remained against his. They locked eyes, and neither knew exactly what to say. To break the tension, Chris said the first inane thing that came to mind; “WorkSafe is gonna think we’re running a scam or something.” Tom snickered, and Chris decided he liked the sound. “They may. I wonder if they have a blacklist for accident prone workers.”

                “Or easy targets.” But right as he said it he regretted it when he saw his friend’s face fall. Hurt, he mumbled yet another apology. “I’m sorry... I should have been more cautious...”

                “Don’t.” Chris cut him off, “It wasn’t your fault. I’m just glad you didn’t end up worse off.” Their eyes met and Chris really wanted to ask about the incident Rob spoke of, but decided now was not the time or the place. At his words Tom did his best to smile even with the stitches in his lip, but lowered his gaze right after, ears turning red. “Thank you for helping me... I am in your debt.”

                “No, mate,” Chris cut him off again, his face flushed as well. “We’re even.”

                They grew quiet, Chris’s thumb still stroking the back of Tom’s hand. Even as his eyes began to droop, he looked tense, frightened. He was likely still shaken up by what happened before. His eyes drifted to Chris, and before he could apologize for his lack of energy he was interrupted again. “Do you want me to stay while you rest?”

                “Would you?” Tom asked, half-fearful, half-hopeful. The look in his eyes said it all; he didn’t want to be alone, and with Rob gone... “I mean, if you don’t mind...”

                “How many days did you sit with me when I was out?” Chris offered, thinking that perhaps Tom needed justification for his presence while he slept that wasn’t him being afraid of being by himself just then. “I don’t mind, just get some rest. Rob said he’d come get us in the morning.” Relieved, Tom muttered a quiet thank you before allowing his eyes to slip closed.

                When he finally fell back into slumber, Chris realized he was still holding his hand, and wondered how long it had been there, or if Tom even minded. Hell, did _he_ mind it holding his hand? The question that had been culminating in his mind throughout the day finally came to the forefront of his psyche as he slowly retracted his hand;

                What _did_ he feel for Tom?


	6. Chapter 6

               For however stagnant the Australian summer weather could be, it felt like everything was rapidly changing for Tom. He had completed his transfer from Cambridge to La Trobe to finish his degree and had moved to another country. He met Rob, his long-time online acquaintance, and confirmed that he was not a crazed serial murder like his mother had feared, but in fact a perfectly decent guy who was willing to put him up at no cost until he could move into the dorms. He had got a job, made friends, experienced a mugging... many things he never thought he’d get to do or see.

But perhaps most impressive was experiencing a certain blonde getting electrocuted and somehow befriending him afterward.

A week had passed; the swelling in his face was gone and the bruising had faded considerably. He was getting his stitching out the next day, which was a relief. All that was left was the cuts and bruises on his chest and arms, which he was cleverly hiding with a long-sleeves until they too faded.

Although the physical injuries were gone, the psychological ones remained. He was still fearful going out alone, and he all but refused to go into any unlit areas without someone else being at his side. It wasn’t like him to be so paranoid, and it really unsettled him that one incident could make him feel this way, but he could not help how he felt, or how fearful he had become.

That was where Chris had come in. Meeting Chris and the events that followed, getting to know him, and being rescued by him... All of it had stirred feelings within him that he thought had been long-buried. To save him the heartbreak, the hardship, and the emotional turmoil, he had pushed away the prospect of any sort of romantic connection with anyone and focused solely on furthering his education. It had been Rob’s advice before his move that convinced him to do so. Not his intention, obviously, but it served its purpose. Rob had never steered him wrong before, and he was a close friend, his confidant. Tom was grateful for everything he continued to do for him... But now presented with these emotions head-on, the potential for more... It was becoming more difficult to squelch the urge to pursue them. It seemed the universe was out to ruin him.

Even so, he was grateful for the man’s continued presence. Recently he had been coming by the store more and more, taking odd jobs around the area to pay his bills. Even Anette had helped out; paying him to do some minor maintenance on her car while she worked. Oh, that had been a sight; Chris walking in with grease smudged on his face, his arms and chest covered in a layer of sweat and grime, and a huge grin on his face as he proudly announced that Anette’s brakes were just fine and that he had replaced the pads for her.

When he wasn’t working, they would sit and talk in the café. Chris was very easy to talk to, and even when the conversation turned to something he knew little about, he would listen intently and ask questions of him every now and then. They found out much about each other in those conversations; he found out that Chris was thinking about going into school to be a mechanical engineer, but thought he might just take a course to become an auto mechanic instead. He found he enjoyed building and fixing just as much as Tom enjoyed reading and watching plays. They talked about growing up in their respective hometowns, about how Chris would drive out to the beach and surf on the weekends whenever he had the chance, that he liked to dance but was rather terrible at it, and that he used to live on a farm in the bush chasing livestock around. All such fascinating things for someone who had grown up in Westminster and had rarely traveled. It was one the reasons he enjoyed books so much; it gave him the ability to escape and experience another world, another life. A life like Chris’s, a life _with_ Chris, even...

“Tom, if you want the dessert, just ask Matty for a bit.” Pulled from his thoughts by Rob’s musings, Tom realized he had spent an undetermined amount of time staring at a display of bread pudding, courtesy of a local delicatessen. He straightened , a faint blush on his cheeks. Mumbling an apology he continued his work of wiping down the glass on the display. Rob stood on the other side of the counter, arms crossed with a smug look on his face. “You’re thinking of him, aren’t you?”

“Who?” Tom asked innocently.

“Who? Who else makes you space out like you keep doing?” He scoffed, planting his palms on the wooden counter top. “You’ve been all starry-eyed about him lately. You remember what I said, right?”

“Rob, please... You know it’s nothing. Chris is straight, remember?”

“Yes, but you’re still transfixed with him. If you’re in such a hurry to get your heart broken, just jump his bones and call it a day.”

“Rob!” His face was beet-red now. Thank goodness there were no customers in the store; no amount of eloquent prose was going to explain his expression away. He could only attempt to vehemently deny that there was anything more than mild attraction for the younger man.

Said younger man walking into the café with his shirt half-open didn’t help matters. Rob glanced over his shoulder and grinned brightly as Chris approached, his hair a mess from the wind outside and water beading off every surface of skin. “Speak of the devil himself.” He nodded to their friend, waving as Chris gave a mock salute. Instantly Tom’s demeanor changed, whirling around and flashing a bright smile the blonde’s way. “Chris!” He greeted as he grabbed a towel from behind the counter and rushed to his friend. “Did you really walk here in the rain?”

“Nah, mate, just from the free parking down the way.” He turned to glance outside at the pouring rain that was currently pounding against the windows of the small café. “It’s really coming down though... Bad day to be out.” Tom nodded in agreement, doing his best not to admire Chris’s profile and the water running off it. He handed the towel to his friend, who proceeded to dab away the rain, “Are you off work soon?”

The ginger nodded, keeping his eyes firmly planted on his slightly taller friend’s eyes so not to be caught staring at less appropriate areas. “Yes, shouldn’t be too long now.”

“Great.” Chris handed the towel back, his hair still damp but not dripping anymore. “Do you want to get a burger when you’re done? My treat.”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to pay...”

Chris chuckled, cocking his head to one side, “I insist.”

“But...”

An exasperated sigh interrupted them, “Tom, just accept the date offer!” Rob shout, clearly not in the mood. Both Chris and Tom took pause to stare at the older man, both answering in unison. “It’s not a date!” And then they looked to each other in the same embarrassment, and oh, did Tom feel ashamed at that moment. He nervously licked his lips as he nodded, “Burgers sound fine, Chris. Thanks.”

Chris anxiously scratched at his neck, refusing to meet Tom’s gaze. “Right. I’ll just stick around here then till you’re done?”

“Yes, that’d be fine.” He nodded before scuttling back to work, leaving Chris to find a seat at one of the many pub tables that were strewn about the shop. Tom brushed past Rob and the look he gave him was priceless, but the man snorts as if he didn’t care. Tom decided to ignore it and get back to cleaning. The faster he got done, the sooner he’d be able to leave and sort this out again.

\- - -

The more time that Chris spent with Tom, the more he was beginning to question his motives from constantly coming to see him. At first it was just to make sure he was okay, that he was recovering from his injuries fine and wasn’t having any undue psychological effects from the attack. But now it seemed he was more legitimately interested in just being in his presence than assuring his well-being. Every day when he was done with whatever odd task he had been hired for, he would come to the café and check to see if Tom was working. If he wasn’t, he’d send him a text to see how he was and if he needed anything (usually Tom would politely turn him down). If he was, then he’d sit in the café and drink whatever little smoothie or frap that the curly-haired twig of a man mixed up for him and wait until he finished his shift so they could talk.

He loved talking to Tom; he always seemed so interested and excited for anything he had to say. The man had a pretty mainstream upbringing for a Brit. Two sisters, separated parents, lived in the center of London for most his life. He found out he went to a private boarding school for much of his education, and that he had become engrossed in classical literature and plays at a young age. The man was smart and poetic, and could even spout whole stanzas of plays Chris had hardly heard of at the drop of a hat. The way he could get so into a piece was downright amazing. It reminded him of the way some people would get into a drama series or a video game; passionate and full of love for the subject matter. Tom even planned to join a local play troupe when he got back to school.

It was much the same situation when he had come that day, with the rain pelting him as he walked the three blocks from his car to the café just so he could sit and chat with Tom while he finished up work for the day. In spite of the poor conditions, he was elated to spend some time with his friend... Until Rob had made it blatantly clear what it looked like to him, and likely everyone else, bringing him back to square one in terms of coping with the idea that he might be attracted to a certain lanky man.

As he finished his hot chocolate, Tom approached him, apron gripped in his hands. He wore a loose-fitted tee that said in block print _Prose before Hoes_ , and a pair of rather tight fitting jeans. “I’m about done. Are you ready?” He asked, one hand running through his unruly curls that only seemed to multiply with the humidity. Chris nodded and stood, glass in hand. “Yeah, I’ll go put this away. Is Justin’s place all right with you?”

The older man tilt his head to the side, “I’ve not been there. Is it good?” He asked, eyes wide with curiosity. He looked so much younger than he was... it killed Chris with how cute it was. “Yeah, it’s pretty good. Just a few blocks down too.”

Tom gave an affirmative nod, turning to head back to the employee’s only area of the café. “I’ll drop this off and time-out. I’ll be only a minute.”

“Right. I’ll be here.” He waved him off, purposefully looking away from his friend. Was he wearing those tight jeans on purpose?

Chris dumped his now empty smoothie cup in the trash and waited by the door, enduring the stink-eye from Rob all the while. Yet another obstacle he found in coping with his apparent desires for Tom; his roommate. At least, he was hoping he was just a roommate. The way he was so protective of him and how he glared at Chris sometimes when Tom wasn’t around made him think they were something more. A jealous ex? Or maybe he just had a thing for Tom... Either way, it was making things all the more uncomfortable for him.

Luckily his companion didn’t take long to return, sporting a light jacket to keep from the rain and an umbrella to share. “Ready?”

“Ready when you are.” Chris nodded, a faint smile on his lips. Tom turned to Rob and waved, asking him to lock up proper before leaving himself. With that, the two were off.

The sun had not yet set but the rain continued to pour, making the streets darker as if it was already night. Tom held the umbrella over the both of them as they made their way towards the restaurant, chatting about school starting back up and how the flat was in shambles because he was packing. Apparently Tom was planning to move to the dorms at La Trobe to save on commute. In the end it would be easier on his budget and cut down on the commute. Chris agreed; he was moving into the public housing reserved for students himself. Though they both realized it’d mean they couldn’t hang out like they had been, Tom quickly reminded him that they were only about thirty minutes apart and could still hang out on the weekends. The very idea made him smile. They had known each other barely a few weeks and Tom was willing to make the trek to see him. Maybe this could work...

 _No, don’t go there, Chris._ He scolded himself mentally, _You’re straight, remember?_ But even though his mind was constantly trying to correct him, he was beginning to think that perhaps he could like a man, too... if that man was Tom, maybe.

                Their talk continued at the restaurant, a small diner with candy-red seats and checkered linoleum. They ate burgers and talked about the upcoming school year, how quickly the summer went. They talked about spaceships and new sitcoms and math problems and how Tom couldn’t do them and everything except _them_ and what they could be. But he knew, oh, he _knew_ he wanted to ask the golden question; what Tom thought of all this, of him, of how close he was getting, and about Rob.

                It was late by the time left the diner with their appetites sated and the mood considerably lifted. It was about when they got to Chris’s car that Tom finally popped the question; “Do you want to come back to my place for some drinks?” Booze, with Tom. That ended so well last time, but regardless Chris was willing if it meant spending a bit more time with his friend. He agreed, but explained he had to be home that night, to which Tom assured they wouldn’t have too many.

                The ride back was cramped with all the boxes stuffed into his car, but neither seemed to mind nor mention their tight quarters. As soon as they were in they were off rolling, both animatedly chattering about whatever came to mind.

                Tom’s room was much the same as Chris’s car, just more space between the boxes. He didn’t have much in the way of personal belongings, but there were an impressive amount of books stacked up inside the massive bin he was using to move his things to the dorms. All classic literature, he assumed. When he mentioned it, Tom sheepishly explained that he had collected quite a few while working at Matty’s shop. Chris quickly learned why he took up such a job.

                In spite of his previous request, the single drink he promised quickly turned into four and their conversation devolved into things less intelligible. “No, no way, mate.”

                “Oh, come now, Chris. You’re probably a fantastic dancer!”

                “Not happenin’!” He continued to protest even though he was laughing between sentences. “I’m not graceful like you are. I dance like a one-legged wallaby.”

                “I can show you.” Tom offered, taking another drink of his beer. He had a bit too many as well. “It’s not hard if you know where to put your hands.” Both hands were held up, fingers waggling, making Chris snort. “No, no... You dance, I watch.”

                Tom stood, flitting to one side of the room to where a rickety CD player sat upon an end table. He messed with a few knobs until some music began to play, some sort of classic rock song. And then, he began to dance.

                The way Tom moved was like he had practiced for days, yet it was all impromptu. He stepped to the jaunty tune like he had heard it a million times before and Chris began to wonder how he was able to be that drunk and still be that graceful. He stepped and snapped and tapped and clapped and spun to the rhythm like he had been born to do nothing else but dance. It was mesmerizing, enticing, and soon he couldn’t fight the urge to dance with him any longer.

                Compared to Tom his movements were simplistic, very basic steps and arm movements. But Tom took it in stride and danced along with him, encouraging him to be a little more open, to get a little more into it. Soon they were dancing like fools together, laughing and singing along to songs they recognized, making up lyrics to those they didn’t.  Eventually Tom grabbed ahold of his hands, slender fingers twining around his, and he was able to match the lanky man step for step as they did an awkward, drunken rendition of the salsa together.

                The song switched to a ballad, the slower tempo giving them a chance to catch their breath, Chris’s hand on Tom’s slim waist, and Tom’s on his broad shoulder. They exchanged a grin as they slowly rocked back and forth while the love song played, and Chris was suddenly very aware of how close they were, and by the look on his face Tom realized it too.

                To break the tension, he spoke. “You’re... a really good dancer.” He complimented, eyes fixated on Tom’s. The older man nodded, absently licking his lips, “You are too... You should give yourself more credit.” Chris snort and shook his head, “Nah, I just followed your lead.”

                “You’re too humble.”

                “And the pot calls the kettle black.”

                They shared a laugh, the gap between them quickly closing. He felt like he was gravitating towards him, towards those lips and that adorable smile. And then their eyes met and everything seemed to slow. The fingers on his shoulder shifted slightly, Tom’s gaze flicking from his eyes to his lips and back again, lips slightly parted, their breath mingling between them. Chris watched him, analyzed every move, and was powerless to stop what was coming.

                And that was what scared him.

                Just as Tom was about to close the gap he pulled away, letting go of him entirely, eyes wide with surprise. The older man simply watched him, the expression in his eyes clearly conveying the hurt he felt from the rejection. Chris couldn’t do this, he couldn’t... “I’m sorry.” Tom was first to speak, and it was an apology, no less. With eyes lowered he backed away, those slender fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I didn’t mean...”

                “Don’t.” Chris cut him short, knowing neither of them could talk about this right then. He wasn’t in the right mental state for it, anyway. “Just... Don’t...” With a sigh Chris headed for the staircase, grabbing his jacket one the way. He needed fresh air, he needed to get out, clear his head... Get out of town like he had intended to that night.

                “Chris, please wait!” Tom hurried after him, stopping him right as he got to the door. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, I swear---“

                “Tom, I said don’t, okay?” He snapped and watching the expression on Tom’s face as he drew back was downright painful. Chris scrubbed at his face, the whole situation sobering him up quite nicely. “I need to go...”

                “But you’re drunk...!”

 _Not drunk enough..._ He added mentally, but quickly shook off the man’s concern. “I’m fine enough to drive, mate. Just leave it be.” Even though he knew he wasn’t. He just had to get away so he wouldn’t have to talk about this, about what just happened and what he was feeling for the man who was anxiously biting his lip as he stood before him wringing his hands and watching him fearfully. “I’ll see you later.” And with that, he left, leaving Tom on the doorstep of the old cottage as he climbed into his car, pulled around the corner, parked, and promptly beat his head against the steering wheel. Tom was right, he was too far gone to drive, let alone make it back to Phillip Island. But anything was better than facing him just then.

                He decided for at least a while the front seat of his car was a good enough place to sleep of the alcohol, and sort out his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kids, don't drink and drive. It's bad and you can get someone killed. Don't be like sexually confused Chris here and try to go even a block. Just stay where you are or call a cab. Drink responsibly!


	7. Chapter 7

               Phillip Island was less an island and more of one giant tourist attraction during the summer months. Chris had to fight heavy early morning traffic coming into Newhaven from San Remo that was clogged with out of area license plates and sunburnt foreigners wearing tacky souvenir shirts. He loved penguins as much as the next beach bum, but after living on the island for a good portion of his life he didn’t feel the need to clamber to the coast to see them day after day.

               Now going down to the beach to surf was a completely different matter. One still had to make their way through the throng of aforementioned tourists to get there during peak season, however; one of the reasons Chris wasn’t exactly against going to the mainland for the summer. He could always come back and get some as tourist season ended.

               But now he just felt like sitting his room and staring at the ceiling. His phone would chime every now and then, telling him he had a new message, a new voicemail, another missed call. Chris already knew who they were and why they were calling, but he couldn’t bring himself to reply to any of them.

  *  _Chris, I am so sorry about the other night._
  * _chris cmon man just talk to tom already_
  * _you boys need to stop fighting!!! Tom is a wreck so why don’t you talk to him???_
  * _Please forgive me. I am so, so very sorry._
  * _hey dont be a jerk to him he said he was sorry_
  * _no one is asking you to date him so just stop being mad okay??_
  * _I broke your trust and I am remorseful. Please just let me know you got home okay!_



               The messages had come sporadically over the last week, but he hardly felt the energy to respond to them. No, it wasn’t for lack of energy, but the lack of anything to say that wouldn’t make him sound like an asshole. There were at least fifteen drafts in his phone’s box of started apologies, explanations, but he began to hate them all soon after he began writing them, and could not complete them. Anything said to Tom would feel hollow, because he could not bring himself to say the truth. Hell, even he wasn’t ready to admit the truth to himself, let alone to the person it regarded.

               So he continued his silence, letting their minds wander as he knew he shouldn’t, because anything that could be said could be saying too much, and his foolish pride would not allow that.

               But even as he lay in his room at his home, with all of his comforts he knew and love just a feet away, Chris had never felt so miserable.

               “Yo, bro, why are you stuck inside when the beach is pretty much vacant right now?” His brother’s head poked into his room, sunkissed skin and bleached hair. Chris grumbled and rolled over on his bed, facing away from his brother. “Get lost, Liam. I’m sleeping.”

               “Ma says you’re moping.” The teen corrected, leaning against his doorframe with arms crossed. “Are you still upset about getting dumped and running back home with your tail between your legs?”

               Chris bolted upright, his face reddening with both embarrassment and rage. “I was not dumped and I did not run home! Now will you fuck off?”

               Liam, clearly not believing a word he was saying, rolled his eyes. “Jeez, quit being such a girl! You’ve got, what, a week before school starts up again? Go out and enjoy the beach while you can.” For once, his brother had a good point. There weren’t many good surfing spots near campus, and with classes he wouldn’t have much time to get out to any good spots before it got cold. _Perhaps I should go to the beach... Clear my head a bit._

               He went to his closet, rummaging through the discarded clothing and shoes that had been unceremoniously tossed within it in an attempt to “tidy up”. Unearthing his trunks and rash guard, he began to undress. “Whoa, bro, I don’t need to see that!” Liam added in mock disgust, backing out of the room as the shirt was tossed at his head, “Then get lost. I’m going to the beach.”

               “You’re actually going?” Asked the teen, thinking that perhaps he had gotten through to him after all. Chris ignored him, saving for mumbling about going out to think. His younger brother watched him leave, a satisfied smirk on his face. Once he heard the screen door slam, he made a bee-line for his brother’s Xbox. “Ah, alone at last...” He snickered, taking a seat on his brother’s bed and proceeding to boot up Team Fortress. Mission accomplished.

 

               As one would imagine of someone who had spent a majority of his life near the coast, Chris had taken a liking to surfing. He couldn’t claim to be any more than an enthusiast, and was far better at wiping out in front of cute girls than showing off, but just being out on the water and only thinking of the next big wave had always been relaxing for him. Just him and the vast expanse of water, nothing else. He could just focus on the sport and not think about the stressful events that had been going on in the past week.

               He strapped his board onto his car and pedaled off towards the beach. Clouds had begun to form over the sea, the wind gusting across the water, picking up waves that were far too hazardous for farmers’ tanned tourists on boogie boards. But for someone who had actually had some practice, it was fair game.

               The beach was deserted by the time he arrived, the sun peeking out from the clouds on occasion, dark clouds forming at the very edge of the horizon. The lifegaurds had put out the yellow flag, meaning anything he did was to be done with an edge of caution, but he paid it no mind. With the state he was in, he needed to take some risks in order to get his head clear.

               Chris strapped his tether to his ankle and jogged towards the water, climbing on as soon as the board would float. Within minutes a sizeable wave had formed and he paddled outward in hopes of catching it.

               The roar of the ocean, the sound of the gulls, the rush of water over his head when he’d wipe out. It took every ounce of concentration to stay upright, to jump at the right time, and thanks to that he was able to simply ignore the world and not think about work or school or breaking boy’s hearts or his impending sexual identity crisis. How did it all come to this, he had to wonder, especially when not even the dull roar of the waves washing against the sand could chase a certain ginger from his mind.

               Tom had been devastated by his outburst, he knew that much for sure. But even as his friends and acquaintances continued to pester him to make up, to speak to each other again, it seemed Tom was solely focused on making sure he was not hated and that he did not alienate him. Why, of all people, was Tom more concerned withed his well-being over his own? Was he so selfless that he didn’t care if his heart was broken so long as Chris did not feel uncomfortable? Such a selfless man... A selfless, stupid man...

               And yet...

               With a cry Chris wiped out, his board sticking into a shallow reef before flinging him almost comically off into the water. He struggled to the surface, gasping for air and coughing once he righted himself. Just thinking of Tom threw him off. Hell, it threw everything off, his plans derailing each time because there lay a minute chance that he would come across the man again with him living so close, going to school in the same area, eating at the same restaurants, breathing the same air. And why? He was still trying to figure it out.

               With a sigh he returned to the shore, flopping onto the sand as the sun became obscured by the oncoming storm. For a long while he stared at the sky, trying to shove the image of that man from his head, the teary look in his eyes as he left his house...

               In the end, it was all he could think about. He found he liked the way Tom’s breathy laugh sounded when he was trying to be quiet, his voice deep and rich when he wasn’t. He found the way his lips curled when he smiled adorable, the way his eyes crinkled at the edges as the grin grew. That untamable, unmanageable curly hair, those slender fingers as they gestured wildly when he spoke in that rich voice... The way he’d get excited about even the most inane things, babble on until he thought he was talking too much and apologize. Gods, even the way he apologized...

               His mind had gone full circle once more, but this time with a purpose. As the first drops of rain began to patter down over him, cold against his bare skin, Chris came to an epiphany.

               The guards took down the yellow flag, replacing it with a red one as Chris tore from the beach back to his bike. Things couldn’t stay as they were, and he couldn’t continue to stay silent.

 

               “Oh, hey, you’re back.” Liam leaned back against Chris’s bed, headset dangling around his neck as he called out to him, game on pause. “Just in time. Mom wants to know what you want for dinner. Said you weren’t answering your phone.” The blonde rushed past him, completely ignoring the fact that he was currently occupying his xbox as well as his room. Liam stared as his brother began digging through his drawers and overturning bins in a mad search for... something, “...Lose something?”

               With skill born from days of oversleeping on school days, Chris yanked off his rashguard and tossed it into the hamper before digging out another shirt to wear, thankfully running into the bathroom before dropping his drawers. He emerged a moment later fully dressed with his hair still sticking up in places thanks to the salt water. “Where’s my phone?”

               Liam was just staring now, completely bewildered, “You took it with you. Dude, what the hell are you all riled up about?”

               Again Chris did not answer, but he did look slightly paler. He ran to the bathroom, digging into the pocket of his wet swim shorts to retrieve his phone. With a look of horror he held it up and watched as water began trickling out of the battery port. “Oh, _no..._ ” Now what was he going to do? He didn’t know Tom’s number by heart, or even Rob’s...

               The phone was discarded into the bin before Chris tore some clothing from his closet and tossed it into a duffel with renewed vigor before sprinting to the bathroom. “Uh... You going somewhere?”

               “Back to the mainland.” He answered shorty, tossing his comb, gel, and razor into the bag before shoving his toothbrush into his mouth for a once-over. “Right now?” Liam cocked his head at his older brother, pulling the headset off so he could stand without ripping the whole unit out of the wall. “School doesn’t start for another week. And didn’t you turn over your apartment already?”

               “Shuh uppah.” Chris snapped, mouth full of foam from the toothpaste. He turned back to the sink and spit before doing a quick rinse. “I need to take care of something.”

               “Bro, are you serious? It’s like pissing rain out there!”

               “Tell me something new, Liam!” Chris snapped as he pulled his duffel over his shoulder, “Tell Mum I won’t be home for a bit, but I’ll call when I get a chance.” And with that he was running for the door, catching the keys from their hook before bursting through the front door to his car. Liam, still very much confused, hurried after him, “Chris! Mum’s gonna kill me if I give her a message like that! Chris!! Chris, get your pretty boy ass back here!!” But nothing would come of his protests as Chris peeled out of the driveway like a man possessed, or rather a man on a mission. “Well, shit...”

 

               The rain rattled the window panes, thunder rolling over the hills from the coast. From his seat Tom had a perfect view of the light show that nature had given him, as if a gift to raise his spirits. But just like the weather, the boy was as uncharacteristically gloomy as he had been all week. With a soft sigh he turned his attention back to his book, trying his best to focus on his studies. School would start in a few days and he had put off his summer reading long enough. It wasn’t like it was difficult to take in a few play manuscripts, under normal circumstances, that is. With his mind wandering it was as if he was reading a foreign language, and not any he already knew.

               Chris hadn’t answered his phone since the incident. What a great fool he had been to have pushed him that far. Chris was straight, and however drunk he was, however attractive he was, he should have never disregarded that. All these things he knew he would say when he saw him next... If he saw him. With how uncommunicative he had been, Tom had sooner assumed that Chris would never be seen by him again at this rate.

               It hurt, that thought. It clutched at his lungs and stung his eyes, weakened his jaw so it quivered ever so slightly as the tears fought to burst through the well-defined barricade earned from many years of ridicule and heartbreak. Oh, why had he been so foolish? Rob had warned him, hadn’t he? Warned him not to get attached, that he’d end up getting hurt, and what did he do? Let his heart do the thinking, and just like before...

               The phone rang. Tom glanced to the antiquated wall-unit, blinking back the tears. Who would be calling at this hour? Certainly not Rob or any of his coworkers; they knew his cell phone. Come to think of it, no one really had Rob’s house number save for his parents. _Ah, I should let the machine get it, then. Best not to make them spend the extra dollar chatting to me when Rob isn’t here._ The phone’s ringing soon ceased and Tom let out a soft sigh, turning back to his worn copy of _Antony and Cleopatra_ that he had been putting off for far too long. He found it strange how Cleopatra’s whirlwind romance with the foreign stranger would end so tragically. _If only I had such conviction as her..._

                Again the phone rang, Tom glancing it’s way as the trill permeated the muggy air around him, breaking the peaceful silence. Would Rob’s parents be so adamant about getting ahold of him at this hour? The line went silent, and not a second later began ringing again. Whoever it was that was trying to get through must need to do so urgently.

                Finally Tom stood, setting his book aside so he could pick up the receiver, “Hello...?”

                “Tom?” The voice on the other side was ragged and barely audible over what sounded like static. A bad connection? But, he knew the voice, “Tom, is it you? Answer me!”

                In that moment Tom felt the bottom fall out of his stomach, his hands trembling as he gripped the receiver tighter. It couldn’t be... “Chris?”

               A crack of thunder echoed through the house as well as the receiver with only a second delay between them. “Shit, that’s loud...” The voice on the other end cursed, “Tom, it’s me, Chris. I need to talk to you!” Panic clutched at Tom’s chest like icy hands set on stealing his breath from him, “Chris, where are you? How did you even get this number?”

                “Phone directory... Look, I...” He paused long enough for another crack of thunder to drown out his voice. Was he outside? “I’m sorry, I don’t have much time. I’m on the corner near the gas station that Rob buys his smokes at.”

                “Carl’s? That’s only a few blocks from here...” Tom breathed, wondering just what was happening. “Wait, you’re in town?” A beep sounded in his ear, followed by Chris cursing more. A payphone? “Meet me there!” He shout over the roar of the storm before the line went dead.

                Tom called into the receiver a moment more, as if he could extend Chris’s time by sheer force of will. But nothing came of it... No matter, as Tom was pulling on his coat and boots and throwing the door open without even bothering to replace the phone on the wall.

 

                Chris had only eight coins on him.

                Two went to the first directory call to the café Tom worked at, where Annette answered, called him a string of creative slurs before hanging up.

                The set went to another directory call, this time looking for Rob’s house. He only knew his name, and had done some guess work on what street he lived on. He thought it was hopeless when the line went to voicemail, knowing he had no other way to get ahold of Tom. He tried again, and again, until finally he got through and Tom answered. He hadn’t realized he was so close to his house, but the small amount of change wouldn’t allot him enough time for directions. Chris could only hope that his message came through and Tom would meet him. Only then could he make things right.

                Standing beneath the awning of the call box, his windbreaker wrapped around his already soaked form, Chris kept his eyes out over the street. Nothing. Nothing but cars and a few rushing pedestrians trying to find shelter from the rain. Five minutes passed, then ten, perhaps more but Chris couldn’t tell without a watch or phone to keep track. It felt like forever and over and over Chris cursed himself for being so stupid, for all the mistakes he had made, for not knowing his way around this side of town in spite of going to school not far from there, for not remembering how to find the café or the house and for making Tom so upset in the first place because he was just so _stupid_...

                And then, in the distance, he spotted something, someone. A pair of lean legs, running shorts clinging to toned thighs, a jacket hanging off of slim shoulders and a broken umbrella bouncing overhead. Chris stared as the figure jogged closer, knowing who it was and forgetting how to speak.

                And he came to a halt just a few feet from him, Tom panting for breath as he had ran the entire distance, which he likely had. All the words, all the carefully formulated speeches that Chris had come up with on the long drive in were completely washed away by the rain and overwritten by the image of Tom, wet hair clinging to his forehead, out of breath with wide-eyes staring at him in disbelief.

                In the end, it was all he could do to say, “I was stupid.”

                Tom blinked as if not quite sure what he meant, or perhaps he hadn’t heard over the sound of the rain. Chris took a step closer, leaving the shelter of the awning and not caring of the rain continued to soak his clothes. “I’m still stupid, and I’ll probably continue to be stupid. I saw what was happening and I didn’t try to stop it until it was too late.” His words seem to shake something within Tom, who for once had been rendered speechless. “I know you like men, and I said it didn’t bother me. I said you were my friend, but I betrayed your trust and hurt you. So, I’m sorry.”

                “Chris, I...” Tom began, gripping the handle of the umbrella as a gust of wind blew against them, bitter cold. Before Tom could muster anymore words, Chris cut him off. “I know you like me, I get that. I know what happened that night, and...”

                Both grew quiet, coats flapping in the wind, Tom’s grip barely able to keep his umbrella in place. Finally, it was his turn to speak. “Chris, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I know that night I overstepped my bounds and I’m so, so sorry... I just... We can be friends, that’s all! I promise not to do anything---“

                “Tom.” Chris cut him off with a single word and their eyes met, the tears apparent on his face, or was it just the rain? Neither would say. Instead Tom just stood frozen as Chris stepped closer until he was standing mere inches from him, rain dripping off his flushed face, their breath mingling together as puffs of mist. This time, it was Chris who closed the gap.

                A gust of wind took the umbrella from Tom’s hands as Chris wrapped his arms around Tom’s waist, rough lips pressing against his. Was it a dream? Had he fallen asleep on the couch? No, this was real. Chris pulled him close to his chest in a soggy embrace that somehow still felt just as warm as ever. Quietly, just barely loud enough to be heard over the roar of the storm, he spoke. “I’m not sure how I feel but... I know it feels nice, and... I want to at least try before I give up on something like this... Like us.”

                The arms that laid limply against Tom’s sides slowly came up to encircle his waist, slender fingers clinging to his windbreaker as he buried his face in Chris’s shoulder. They stayed there for a long moment, surrounded by the elements, shivering with cold and something else that neither was quite ready to address. It was Tom who finally pulled back, eyes puffy from tears with a smile on his face. “I’m sorry... Getting all weepy like this.” He snort, scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I just can’t believe you actually...”

                “Tom,” Once again that deep voice was interrupting him, and Tom found he didn’t really mind just then. “If you’re willing to forgive... To stick with stupid, naïve, accident-prone me... Then I think this can work.” The smile on Chris’s face was hopeful, if not a little nervous. Tom returned it along with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a chapter! I'm so sorry it took me FOREVER to get this out. I hit a bout of writers' block as I started a new job and just couldn't get anything to sound right. But I finally did it! A big thanks to my friends D, Elise, and Maho for all their suggestions and encouragement! Hope you enjoyed!


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